Remember when I told you that the ED was there because I wanted control? Because I wanted to be perfect? I thought that was the reason why, I honestly did, but I was lying to you. My eating problems don't exist for a false sense of control, to be perfect, or to run away when things get bad.

When I was little, everyone always told me that I had a pretty face. After being molested for four years, it couldn't be a good thing to have a "pretty facef1 "f0 anymore. Every night my mother's boyfriend came after me he'd tell me that I was so pretty but too fat. He was always pressuring me to eat less, to lose a few pounds, and that sent my mind whirling. If I was "too fat" then maybe if I stopped eating, he wouldn't come after me anymore.

The ideas matured with me as I got older, and I was constantly blaming everything on myself. I was used to being told that something breaking, the dog getting loose, my mother being hit, was all my fault. I had a false hope that if I just ate less I could disappear and no one would notice me or blame anything on me. It wasn't an addiction back then, just a way to hide from a world full of verbal and physical abuse.

When I started gaining friends and getting closer to them, I blamed myself when I lost them. After awhile, I expected them to leave me. I mean, my family left me, my "friends" disowned me, and I expected everyone new that came along and gained my trust to leave too. I made myself believe that I i wantedi0 them to leave me because it was safer. And every time another friend left me, a little voice in the back of my head would assure me that it only proved how much of a self-centered bitch I was.

I secretly hoped that someone would stick around, but I wouldn't let myself believe that. I wanted them to leave, or so I believed. I blamed the problems that were happening with my friends and the people around me on myself, and couldn't see that it wasn't my fault at all.

Ironically enough, when I fell in love with my best friend while I was still with my boyfriend, I just thought it was a mistake. Over the next few months it hit me that it wasn't a mistake. I had to choose between the two people I cared about the most, and I was scared to death of hurting either one of them even in the smallest way. I was convinced that it was my fault that I had landed them in the situation with me. So what did I do? I chose to stay with my boyfriend.

After a few weeks, my choice blew up in my face. He told me that he couldn't handle not being able to hold me, and he dumped me a few hours later. I hated the stupid girl inside of me that was the cause of him leaving me. She was too soft, too caring, and never stood up for herself. I didn't i wanti0 to be the girl that destroyed all the things that I wanted.

My goal has always been to make that little girl with the pretty face evaporate before my eyes, and my eating disorder is getting me closer and closer to my chosen destination. As I lost weight, I saw that girl disappearing, and a new stronger one coming into place. My ed started as an attempt to turn myself into someone that no one would want, a girl made up of skin and hollow bones, so sickly that no one wanted to get near her. It became an unrealistic goal that I'll reach if I keep going like this. I don't want to be the girl with the pretty face. I want to be the girl with no face at all, one that can blend into a crowd and disappear. Someday I'll get my wish.